Confessions of Her
by DrTonaWho
Summary: Emma Swan is writing a story, a story about the woman called, The Evil Queen by parents. A story of her own view, and how Regina Mills ultimately ended up in jail for fraternization with her students. student/teacher roles SwanQueen


**AN: I took a break from writing Dear Henry. It started out as a small writing prompt for a friend that ultimately ended up being much more. I thought I'd share, it's just a dabble. Should I continue?**

 **DISCLAIMER: all rights and characters belong to Once Upon A Time. I'm merely borrowing them to dance to my will.**

* * *

 _Hello._

 _My name is Emma Swan and this is a little awkward. Not because I'm introducing myself via page by page but I'm going to tell you a story. A story about the woman I've loved for ten years whom never seemed to love me back. The very woman you all call "Evil Queen" because she seduced either you or your child._

 _Regina Mills._

 _The notorious wicked lady with tremendously high heels grabbing the profound way she seems to glide across the floor, and her devilishly seductive grin filled with hidden delicious malice._

 _Yes, that Regina Mills._

 _Or as wives call her, Regina_ _ **Fucking**_ _Mills._

 _Oh yes, that was basically her title._

 _But, of course, you know that. You know her. She's the lady whom caught your attention when you were filtering through the morning paper or news. You probably stopped because her short hair and piercing gaze momentarily sent you off to a wonderland probably filled with whips and blindfolds. She does look the type doesn't she? Or perhaps the headlines captured your attention._

 _"Regina Mills: English teacher of Storybrooke High arrested for fraternizing with students"_

 _Although I think "fraternizing" isn't quite the word. When I saw that I merely frowned. Regina Mills does not "fraternize" she_ _ **dominates**_ _. And perhaps if the newspaper workers merely talked to her instead of tut-tutting her from afar, they'd know. They'd know the covetous nature of this brunette woman. The way her animosity towards you sends unknown chills down your spine- because she isn't like any woman you'll ever know, and maybe that's why so many people have gotten caught in her webs. Or in this case, her legs. Her long, smooth, irresistible legs that seem to always be soft no matter-_

 _Anyway, back to the point-_

 _Maybe you scolded her with your inner monologues and glared at how well her imperfections made her all the more alluring. Maybe you heard about it from your own child who may have witnessed the arrest during school hours. Maybe you're one of the teachers who shook their head and held your hand to your chest in mock surprise. When you, yourself knew just how much of a sociopath she was. After all...she didn't just go after students. I distinctly remembering being jealous of the history teacher we all nicknamed Maleficent, because she reminded us students of a dragon since she always spat clever insults._

 _Regardless of how you came to know this notorious woman- you know one thing now._

 _Regina Mills is a sex offender of at least three students...including me. Although I was, technically, her first. And this...this book being written while I'm sitting in my yellow bug outside of Storybrooke's own penitentiary is me being honest. Because she's in there right now. Probably rocking those tinged light blue jumpsuits using that piercing glare on her inmates. She always had a way of intimidation without even trying._

 _Either way, this is my confession as well. To tell you all about the woman I know. Not the one behind bars with a smirk and knowing look like she knows your inner secrets. Not the woman who seemed to never have any emotions. Not the one with aplomb as she walked out of those double doors in handcuffs. Nor the one that gave Dr. Hopper, the psychologist a bad taste as he diagnosed her with sociopathic tendencies._

 _Because...that isn't the woman I know. She does have feelings. She isn't as the sociopathic definition states, "lacking sense of moral."_

 _She was kind, loving, and perhaps a bit inane at times. But she was **her**. A woman with a complicated past who lost people close to her at a young age and married for the sake of her mother's bidding. She's different and entirely complicated._

 _You must understand that before reading this book. You must understand that my love for her isn't fool-proof. I do know what she did was wrong and I know she belongs in that cell. My jealousy does not cloud my judgment. What you'll read is my view, yes, but what you'll also read is the view of someone witnessing an unraveling tabula rasa of a type of dark divinity._

 _I am one of the students that captured her attention, the first._

 _The second student is being held in secret. The second student who captured her attention, I'll talk about her also. I'll mention everyone from my point of view. Also...I'd like to point out that we're all pretending not to know this said second person but we all know she's probably serving coffee at the local dinner here, pretending she's never heard of such a lady who could sleep with high school students. She's probably acting petrified gasping as she nods her head in agreement to the pragmatic citizens of this small town while wearing short skirts and dark red lipstick._

 _But that doesn't matter anymore. It's her choice whether to come out or not. After all...who would want to?_

 _An example being- the third student...the one who betrayed her by getting caught. Graham Wolf. The too kind and gentle boy from Nottingham, England that, at one point in time, was admired greatly. You couldn't walk down the street without banners of "Good Luck Graham!" He was, after all, Storybrooke's football star putting this tiny boring town on the map with his incredible agile talent._

 _Now he's putting Storybrooke on the map for other reasons._

 _With the way he was in this town... It's understandable how she became trapped within the world of him. He has the slight scruff with kind eyes and an accent that could make even the toughest of girls swoon. He dressed nice and even unbelievably_ _smelled_ _nice. I never understood it. No matter what the boy smelled like fresh rain._

 _Anyway..._

 _With his new way of putting our fishing town on the map, he's probably trying not to walk down the streets that praised him now full of disapproving glares. The posters that once wished him luck now sounds insults of various range from, "so you like em older?" To "do good in school didn't mean_ _ **do good**_ _in just English." And the rest is profanity and judgement._

 _Not that I feel bad for him. Not even in the slightest._

 _Because I understand._

 _I understand the sempiternal grandeur of that woman. Because I was also a part of her proclivity disquisition of her forbidden desires._

 _He just didn't hide it that well. He was too...sure and pigheaded. Too fixated on her to even realize his confession could mean absolute destruction of him and her. In other words, he was reckless for thinking the world will revolve around him._

 _I understand. And that's why I don't give a damn. Not for me, not for the second one, and not for him._

 _And that's where I come in._

 _This is the story of me and her. Of our odd love. Of how I fell in love at the ripe age of eighteen and remained that way for ten years before I sat in that chair looking at her with pain so close to love and testified against her. This isn't just my confession..._

 _It's my apology._

 _And this is how it all started._

Emma put her notebook down in the passenger seat of her car. She looked up at the gates near where she parked at the penitentiary where her ex-lover resided. It was a windy morning in Storybrooke. She hugged her red leather jacket tighter around herself. She spent a good hour just writing that with her car turned off. The cold crept in and now that she isn't busy thinking of how to write her introductory she feels the weather.

Her stomach tumbled and rolled as she stepped outside her yellow bug. Slowly her legs and body began to shake, not from the cold, but with the knowledge that she was going to see _her_. The woman she was just writing about.

It took perhaps another thirty minutes and a considerable amount of anxiety waiting. She found it weird that there was thick glass separating her and the other side of the room. She fidgeted with her fingers. It wasn't cold in here as it was outside, but she did feel _her_ coldness even from afar.

Regina came into view. Her brown eyes locked onto Emma's and her gaze turned vile yet cool. Her short hair shifted slightly covering half her face and Emma's heart nearly skipped a beat. The handcuffs were off now as she sat primly with a slight upturn of her lips she picked up the phone.

Her heart beat loudly in her chest.

The blonde finally feels the metal chair beneath her, she looks at the dim shabby tiled counter divided by a thick clear glass. It's like the mere presence of this woman awakens her. Regina raises her brow as she, as Emma predicted, did rock her blue jump suit. The apparent sex offender watches her in a calculating way. The brunette's slender hand picks up the phone in waiting.

"And what are you doing here little Ms. Savior?" She still sounds the same, albeit slightly deeper and a little sultrier but the same.

With a hint of humor and coolness masking her boredom and her tendencies.

The blonde stares in surprise. Her voice was the only thing that remained the same. Her hair, which was shoulder length the last time she saw her, was now longer. Past her now blue shoulders. Her usual bright eyes that always glinted a sense of danger was a bit dimmed, irritated maybe, not with so much vile intent as before. Emma had seen the photo on the news, heard her name echo through those speakers, stared at her in the court room from afar, she sat outside for god's sake waiting until visiting hours but...it just never seemed real until now. Perhaps because now she's closer, so close she can fully see her now.

She's older now with a certain tiredness behind her eyes. But god she held her poise with a sense of baleful gumption. Regina Mills was still as beautiful as the day she met her.

Twelve years ago.

When she first came here as a sophomore.

"I assume you're here for a reason and I'm suspecting it has nothing to do with my wonderful attire," Regina drawled out with a yawn as she looked at her fingernails.

She always pretended not to care- but Emma could always see through her. Always tell. Regina was scared.

"I-" Emma then looked down, away from her brown eyes lazily raking across her frame, "I just wanted to see..."

"See the notorious evil queen behind bars? Or in this case," she tapped her fingernails on the table but looked at the glass, "behind bullet proof glass."

"No..." Emma said a little breathlessly yet disbelieving, "I mean...yes...but- no?"

Regina raised her brow, "I taught you better than to stutter like an idiot Ms. Swan. Enunciate and remember eye contact."

She smirked at her little joke.

Emma frowned, "I mean...yes I'm here to see _you_. Not to see the supposed _Evil Queen_ of the parents you royally pissed off."

Regina hummed and giggled low in her throat as her smirk grew into a playful smile that did something to Emma's insides, "I had to keep myself busy one way or another." She spoke.

Emma flared within, feeling that familiar green ting eat away her insides, "I just had to see it for myself."

Regina's smile disappeared, "how so?"

"I just wanted to know that you can never hurt another human being again."

The brunette smirked, "so you admit it now?"

Emma closed her eyes tightly and looked away, she forced herself to look back up at Regina's amused face.

One day she'll see her as a monster as everyone else.

Or maybe she forever be that pretty lady that sat at her desk with her glasses barely holding on at the bridge of her nose, "yes."

Emma had nothing to hide anymore, "because now I know you can never hurt me again."

"Oh yes I will," Regina drawled out, inching closer as her voice changed into one of hard whispered love, "I always have. I'm in there aren't I? Always there within the crevice of your little blonde brain. I'm the whispers of the wind remember? Just like you said. I'm in every lover you'll ever have and I'm in every memory of this forsaken town."

Emma squeezed her hand around the phone and her other hand gripped her knee tightly.

Regina's voice was like wire but soft like a pillow, "I've been there- in your head for so long I doubt I'll ever leave."

She winked and Emma forgot why she was mad.

"Just like you'll never leave me." She said and perhaps with a little more emotion than she intended.

Emma closed her eyes letting that sink in before she began to softly cry. With no sobs but single tears making their way down her cheeks.

"And that is why...Ms. Swan, that you will say it now, won't you?" Her voice was softer now.

Emma tried to calm herself but when she spoke her voice cracked, "I'm going to write a book."

Regina looked a little deflated, but she never broke her poise, "Is it about me?" She asked rather giddily.

Emma nodded mustering more courage to sound normal, "everything is always about you."

Regina leaned into the phone, into her voice and it sent a certain softness into Emma's heart. So she leaned too, desperate to hear her much more.

"What's it called?" Regina asked.

"That's why I'm here. I...I'm writing it now. Since I have no worries..." The blonde looked down tracing invisible circles in the counter, "about us."

"I understand," Regina said nether sounding angry or...well anything at all, "give me a moment to think."

Emma watched as her face contorted into concentration and she stared at the corner of the table. This was always how she is. Baleful and full of Shakespearian spite then soft the next. Like a weird game of twister that only had two colors, yellow as bright as sunshine and purple as dark as the shadows. Then she looked back up, her piercing gaze sending that familiar tingle up her spine.

"Confessions of a survivor."

Emma titled her head in confusion, "what?"

"The title of your book Ms. Swan."

Emma shook her head understanding why she needed a moment, "I'm not a survivor so that wouldn't be a good title."

"Okay times up," a man with a gruffly voice said and Regina merely looked back at Emma.

They shared a moment. A moment where Regina didn't look like her signature self. She looked sincere and loving and that's what Emma always loved. The one that no living human being sees, this Evil Queen of parents nightmares is no Evil Queen.

She whispered once more before getting up, "Yes you are Emma. Now act like it."

She began to compose her bearing, this wasn't enough time, the blonde needed more, and she looked into Regina's brown eyes. The guard began to walk towards them. The brunette was going to pull the phone away, it only takes a second to tell the one you love how you feel, and it is never too late.

So Emma whispered it once before Regina could pull the phone away, "I love you."

Regina looked startled as she put the phone down. Emma desperately wondered if she even heard her. But her other half stood still long enough for the guard to grab her arm and rebind her once more in those silver heavy handcuffs. Finally she smiled softly back at Emma, alleviating any worry the blonde had as if to say, "You finally said it-," in one simple look to the savior.

And that was the last time Emma Swan saw Regina Mills.

 **###**

Emma stared at the bright white page. The introduction was finished and typed. She sat at a table in Granny's staring at the waitress who pretended not to be the second one- the second student that pulled up those pencil skirts that belonged to Regina. Emma looked around before gathering her thoughts- Regina was right, she is everywhere in this god forsaken town. She looked back at her laptop, the chapter was labeled.

 _ **How it all began**_ _;_

She began typing.

 _I used to keep a journal during those days. That is what I shall refer to while writing this. The beginning of tenth grade was supposed to be "the" beginning. The one where I stop being so sad and gloomy. The one where everything starts anew. Where I forget the iron fist lady- Ms. Blue, the hippie one but only a little- Madam Tinker, and most of all...the foster mother who I was basically pried from- Cora Milliard._

 _It never turned out that way._

 _Nothing ever turns out as planned for me. I remember walking into a dingy apartment studio with chipped wooden cabinets and a distinct smell of cinnamon. It was homely._

 _My new foster parents were a young couple looking to adopt. Although I was pretty sure at the time it wouldn't work out with me. They were the picture of perfection. With matching smiles and everything. They were like the Snow White and Prince Charming searching for their little princess or prince. Their names are Mary Margaret-Nolan and David Nolan. The Nolan's were a couple who found out that they couldn't have children due to Mary Margaret's inept womb._

 _I could only image how that went. They've never mentioned it. But then, they didn't need to. The counselor told me. She told me I should be happy they're letting me in, I should be respectful because of this tragic turn in their lives. Of course no one really took into consideration that perhaps I didn't want to. Why would they degrade my abuse in favor of good people that couldn't conceive a child? This just goes to show you that the nicer you are the more passionate others are to you, never mind the abused child that turned out to be a nightmare to many suburban couples._

 _My dirty converses made the floorboards creak with my weight as they introduced me to my new home. I still frown at their horrid floral design and wondered if perhaps David was as colorblind as his wife._

 _It wasn't all bad if I'm being honest._

 _They gave me the only room, while their "room" was separated by a large white sheet in a corner of the main room. I knew that if I was at least five years younger I'd probably have hugged them. Instead my smile was forced as my awkward one arm hug._

"Emma-"

The blonde jumped slightly looking up to see her adoptive mother sitting across from her.

"Mary Margaret, hi," she couldn't think of anything else to add, "um, hi."

She offered a smile while her mother continued staring with that same disapproving look that's been plastered on her visage since she told her about her book.

"You're still writing it aren't you?"

Emma sighed, "the world already knows who I am, so why not?"

Mary Margaret went on using that same stare, worried yet so vexed with her adoptive daughter's life choices. Don't they always judge her?

"I just think if you spent a little more time on thinking about this that-"

"That what Mary Margaret? That I'll realize what a huge embarrassment this will be for you and David?"

"What? No, Emma-"

"Don't lie to me. I've heard what you and David talk about." Emma looked down at her keyboards, "just don't lie, I'm through with lying. That's all I've ever done since I moved into this town."

She watched as the other woman slowly took in her words, she twisted her grey gloves in her hands. Emma reached across attempting one last time.

"I believe this will help me. To free me in a way, from her, I feel like I can move on if I just write this, if someone understood instead of just staring at me like I'm some poor casualty in this stupid fucked up world. You'd think smaller towns would be more subjective."

"But you are, you're a casualty of her," her mother tried again as Emma sighed sliding her hand away, a move that she assumed hurt her mother.

She saw the way the other woman fought desperately not to reach out, only failing by a few inches until she pulled her hands to her chest. It did hurt her.

Good.

"I am not. We've been over this-"

"Emma she is a bad person, there's nothing more than that. She seduced you and those-"her eyes briefly flickered to the waitress Ruby, at least Emma wasn't the only one that knew, "other kids and she's ruined lives, like Graham. He lost his scholarship did you know that?"

Emma inwardly flinched.

"She's a terrible, terrible-"

She slammed her laptop closed capturing the attention of not only her jumpy mother but of the other diner patrons, "this is why I have to write it."

She stood up gathering her things, "Because you're all wrong-"

"Emma-"

"You're all stuck in your comfort knowledge that 'oh she was just a bad person,' like that's why anyone does anything at all. That she's just a _bad person_ , is that how you sleep at night _mom_? Comforted by the fact that it wasn't my fault? That I did not have a say in it?"

Mary Margaret stared on with those big green sad eyes swirling with sudden regret.

"You're just afraid to know that even your Evil Queen could be anything more than that, because god forbid she had a motive. Isn't that right?"

"Emma Swan." Her voice was stern.

But Emma leaned ever so closer just so that only them could hear, "that it was _your_ fault why this all began in the first place."

When she pulled back her mother had this horror stricken look painted across her delicate features.

"That's right, I know. But don't worry, you're only role in my book is of the sweet, unknowing adoptive mother. One of us has to be the better person here."

And with that Emma walked out of the diner leaving her mother staring blankly at the door while the customers look on in slight amusement and pity for the town savior and her mother.


End file.
